


Never Do Evil

by Darlinxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, He's sick and twisted i know, Incest, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, Smut, Tom is a psycho in this one, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darlinxx/pseuds/Darlinxx
Summary: When it was born, the whole family celebrated the health of their new son, and from that moment on, Tom’s life was forever altered.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 15
Kudos: 189





	Never Do Evil

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I condone the theme of this fic, and there is no way that I support this in real life. However, I cannot deny that this was very interesting to write… probably because it wasn’t something I would have usually worked with myself. Please mind the tags first before reading this fic.

When it was born, the whole family celebrated the health of their new son, and from that moment on, Tom’s life was forever altered.  
  
This was, naturally, a realization that did not occur to him for some time. At first life seemed to carry on as always, and Tom – still seven in body if not in mind – fit the wants of the newcomer into his life as best he could. Both of his parents spent most of their time with _it_ now, instead of him. That was something that didn’t require an effort to get used to.  
  
However, _it_ demanded too much attention, or so Tom thought to himself. He knew better than to voice such thoughts, but he could not help feeling thus. His mother grew paler and more tired as the constant crying at nights kept waking her up. His father’s brow darkened whenever the scrawny little thing decided it should develop a cough. Who could have imagined that human babies would need to be fed so often? That they could get sick so easily? That they would be so weak and small?  
  
When his mother took him into her room and urged him to peer into the crib, Tom didn’t see a brother in there. _That_ was no sibling of his. It was a pink lump of flesh that wiggled. He watched the creature curiously, failing to find in all those folds of skin any resemblance to his mother, his father or to himself.  
  
“Isn’t he lovely, Tom?” His mother murmured entreatingly, clearly alarmed by his impassive face.

Tom glanced up at her, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t lovely. It wasn’t even tolerably human, and his parents had still decided that they needed him, even though they had Tom already.  
  
 _I couldn’t have been as pathetic at that…._  
  
But a niggling voice told Tom that yes, he very well might have been.  
  
So when Merope tried to push that _thing_ into his arms, Tom didn’t know what to do. He stepped back, putting his arms behind his back. “I don’t want to.”  
  
“Tom, this is your baby br—“  
  
“I don’t want to,” Tom insisted, cutting her off.  
  
His mother’s eyes were damp and unfathomably sad as she pressed the baby to her chest. Tom’s face remained blank, but he felt something in him crumble when she turned her face away from him to wipe at her eyes. “Okay, okay, sweetheart.”  
  
Tom turned to leave, and only then did he notice that his father had been watching them from the door.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“One of us should have been enough.”  
  
Lucius smothered a laugh behind a cough, earning himself a glare. “Come now, Tom. Are you sure you’re not jealous of Harry?”  
  
“That _thing_ is not worth getting jealous over. I simply don’t understand why mother and father would want another child,” Tom spoke slowly, plucking strands of grass from the turf on which he sat.  
  
Lucius cocked his head to one side, studying him. “But Tom, isn’t it good that your family grows bigger?"  
  
“The Riddle line needs strong individuals. It requires talent and power.” Tom stopped there, but anyone could have seen what he left unsaid. _If I am all of that, why do they need another? It won’t be as good as me._  
  
“A family also requires more members with which to multiply, and a modicum of happiness to spice the breeding part up,” Lucius pointed out acerbically. More often than not, the complicated ways of his friend left him cold and worried. Tom was – undoubtedly – one of the most talented wizards of his age; but he was also clinically controlled and Lucius sometimes _wondered_ if there was a beating heart beneath the cold façade. No seven year old should speak and think like that. And sometimes… sometimes he found Tom unnerving.  
  
“So you think this is about the perpetuation of our family?” Tom frowned darkly. “If he is less than perfect, then the clan will rely on flawed individuals for it’s survival.”  
  
“Your family is the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, but not every Gaunt could possess magical prowess like him. Although I cannot help but point out that _everyone_ in your family carries the _potential_ , the gene itself. That’s how Pureblood families survive.”   
  
“I still find it rather distasteful.”  
  
Lucius snorted. “Distasteful. Good grief, Tom, where do you get those words? Out of an encyclopaedia? This would be more self-evident if you stopped trying to analyze it scientifically.”  
  
“Lucius, I am simply stating my thoughts on the matter.”  
  
Lucius rolled his eyes. “It sounds more like you’re masking a jealous fit behind some excuse of a social analysis. Maybe you’d be less upset if you tried to get to know your baby brother.”  
  
“Hardly. He’s a surplus member, and he will remain so until he proves himself to be _at least_ as powerful as I am.” Tom brushed his chubby fingers on his pants, leaving grassy stains.  
  
Lucius watched him through guarded eyes. “Meaning, you’ll only accept he’s your brother if he can beat you?”  
  
Tom shrugged and Lucius didn’t know what else to say.  
  
“Maybe you should try and make more friends, friends who have siblings… at least.” Lucius doesn't have any; the Malfoys have always been blessed with a lone heir.   
  
Tom’s gaze was calm and cold. “I don’t need more friends, Lucius. I have _you_ , and that’s more than enough.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
When Harry was four months old, Tom’s parents gradually eased back into their normal selves. It was clear that the baby was going to live and so, they could loosen up on their fretful ways towards their youngest child.  
  
Tom knew his mother had been weak during the pregnancy and that had made his father terribly irritable. Now, at least, his parents seemed to have moved beyond their impasse.  
  
But---  
  
“Why do you want another so soon? Won’t that be dangerous, mother?” Tom glared up at Merope with a look of profound dissatisfaction. He thought his mother would be more careful of her health.  
  
Merope blinked, a bemused smile curling around her lips. “Whatever do you mean, honey?”  
  
Tom sighed heavily. “I mean, why are you trying to have another child so soon?”  
  
Merope’s frown puzzled annoyed Tom. “Your father and I aren’t planning on having any more children for a while. Where did you get this idea?” Her smile was patronizing, a grownup’s smile to a small boy. Tom tolerated such gestures from his mother because it was her nature to be so, but that didn’t mean he liked them.  
  
“I _saw_ you.”  
  
Merope’s smile seemed to freeze in place. “You saw… us? Tom---” and her voice was tense beneath her gentle tones. “What _did_ you see?”  
  
“I saw you and father, last night.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
“I heard you complaining. I wondered if you were hurt or if something was wrong with Harry. You weren’t _really_ complaining, were you?”  
  
Merope’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. “B-but… how…?”  
  
“I hid. Not even father could detect me. He looked rather occupied though, so that might not be a fair indication of his ab---“ Merope’s arms crushed him to her chest. She was shaking and Tom thought he could even detect the faint scent of fear on her skin.  
  
“Oh, baby. Tom, why did you---? How _could_ you---?” Her arms smothered him. “You father must _never_ know, do you hear me? Tom, do you understand!?” She pushed him back, hands on his shoulders.  
  
“Because it would humiliate him?”  
  
“No, Tom, because that’s personal. It would distress your father very much for you to have--- seen that.” Her lips were white as chalk, but a furious blush still stained her cheeks. “Oh.. heavens, what a child!” She seemed torn between laughing and shaking nervously. Beneath her nervous smile, Tom could still sense true dread. It made him wonder about how his father would react in truth.  
  
“So… if you’re engaging in sex--” and Tom saw his mother bite her lip as he said that last word. “--- how come you say you’re not trying to have another child?”  
  
Merope seemed frustrated as well as nervous, and maybe even a bit amused. “Tom, sex isn’t just about reproduction.” Tom had heard that before from his private tutors, but he hadn’t quite gotten the point. “It… it feels very nice. That’s something you’ll understand when you grow up.”  
  
“So you and father do that because it… feels nice?”  
  
Merope seemed to wither under Tom’s searching gaze. “Partly, honey. I… it’s something two people do when they love each other. Your father and I… we love each other very much. That’s just a way we have of showing it.”  
  
Tom gently dislodged her hands from his shoulders. “A way of showing love? Not because you want more children…? Right, I see. I _see_.” He sighed and smoothed his shirt. “I’m sorry I upset you mother, I won’t spy on you and father again.”  
  
Merope covered her eyes with her hand and sighed, the corners of her mouth turned down. “Thank heavens, Tom. Oh love… maybe your father was right.” Tom raised a brow, feeling his belly clench in sudden – unexplainable – anger. “Maybe we shouldn’t have… oh well, that’s water under the bridge now.”  
  
She patted his head lovingly and straightened the collar of his shirt. Tom watched her quietly, feeling her nimble hands ghost over his neck and shoulders, moving up to fuss with his hair. He wanted to ask about what she’d been about to say, but he didn’t think she’d answer.  
  
He saved that question for the future.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Tom wasn’t enamored with the concept of an expanding family, but he decided to take Lucius’s advice at face value. At the very least, it would give him something to do. So it was that, rather than completely ignore the matter, he began to observe the baby’s progress. Soon, he found himself engrossed in it.  
  
Harry learned to walk early, he learned to read on his own when he was two and a half and he began exhibiting accidental magic when he was three.   
  
“He really is _quite_ remarkable, isn’t he?” Lucius murmured, leaning his chin in his hands with an wistful expression. “You are very lucky, Tom.”  
  
Tom watched Harry run around the garden, playing at whatever strange game had caught his fancy – doubtless from one of those folklore books their mother had given him recently. Harry was nimble on his feet and quite agile for a four year old. Tom remembered being much faster at that age, but he knew that _he_ was an exceptional exception, whereas Harry was more of a notable exception.  
  
“He is not as bad as I had thought,” Tom agreed.  
  
Lucius snorted. “That’s quite the understatement. But it’s nice that you are getting to like him more. It’s… good to share family burdens.” Lucius’s smile wavered.  
  
Tom gave him a curious look. “Your parents won’t have more children?”  
  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
  
“So the responsibility of continuing the Malfoy line rests solely on you?” Tom asked, still watching Harry.  
  
“So it seems.” Lucius sighed.   
  
Tom nodded, keeping his eyes on Harry’s antics. “If you say so.” He wasn’t terribly interested, but Lucius _was_ his only friend.   
  
“Well, I have to go now. You coming, or staying here to watch over the kid?”  
  
“I’m staying.”  
  
“Of course,” Lucius scoffed humorously, before showing himself out of the Riddle Manor.  
  
Tom didn’t bother to wave goodbye. Harry was trying to climb a rather slippery tree and he was making good progress on it. Tom hadn’t been able to climb that particular tree until he was a bit older than Harry was now, and _that_ made Harry suddenly - terribly - interesting.  
  
It had taken four years, but Tom had finally begun to believe that the little lump was related to him, that it was a creature worthy of being called his brother. Harry was intelligent, a fast-learner of surprising skills and quick-witted replies—for such a young boy.  
  
He was, however, radically different from his older brother.  
  
Tom knew now why his parents were so wary of him all the time. He could now clearly see how others felt towards him. They thought him strange, withdrawn, difficult--- _inhuman._ The only person who didn’t think of Tom as a freak seemed to be Lucius. Harry, on the other hand, was thought of as wildly intelligent and funny. They called Tom ‘a disturbingly sharp mind’, but they said Harry was _cute._. Cute, as if that were some kind of praise.  
  
And Harry more than earned it, by running around the house and barreling into Tom, or his mother, or his father, and hugging their legs with childish ferocity. Harry wasn’t good at speaking of love or affection – much like all the members of his family – but he had Merope’s knack for expressing it openly. Whenever Thomas Riddle Sr. leant down to pick up his soon and ruffle his hair, Tom felt something coil tighter inside his chest. His father had stopped giving those smiles to Tom a long time ago.  
  
Harry laughed out loud and collapsed on his back, panting. He had almost reached the top, this time. “’Brother? Tom?” He called, and Tom went to him as he usually did, of the late.  
  
“What is it Harry?”  
  
“Do you think you could defeat the evilest Wizard there is?” Harry’s breathless smile made Tom’s insides warm up strangely. There was nothing guarded or careful in those green eyes of Harry’s and it made Tom feel more at ease.  
  
“Grindelwald? I don’t know…”   
  
“I’m sure you could. You’re the strongest wizard ever.” Harry struggled to his feet and sat in front of Tom’s legs, still smiling. “I bet you’re even more powerful than _mother_ ,” he confided, and grinned nervously as if he’d said something bad.  
  
Tom shifted, unsure of what to make of those words. He settled for petting Harry’s hair as he’d seen their father do. Harry flushed and giggled childishly. Then he got up and went back to running around the garden.  
  
Tom walked back to his room with a strange feeling of lightness in his chest. He thought he might tell Lucius about this, to see what he made of it.  
  
He thought---  
  
“No, Merope. Not again.” Tom stopped as soon as he heard his father’s voice and registered the upset timbre with which he spoke.  
  
“But Tom… the tests show he’ll be bored out of his mind, he could at least be skipped a few years---“  
  
“ _No_. I don’t want the same thing to happen again. Have you even looked at our oldest son, Merope? He’s different, _strange_.”  
  
“He’s too smart for his age, I know but---“ Tom held his breath, easing into stealth charms he knew of to crawl forwards unheard.  
  
“Merope, I mean it. I want Harry to go to the Academy like any other boy his age before going to Hogwarts. I want him to go through every single school year, so that he can at least make friends and meet other children his age.”  
  
“Thomas, if Harry is like Tom, then none of the children will be his friends! Harry will be too smart, too grownup for them. It would be better to advance him a few years.”  
  
Tom heard his father snort derisively. “And have him paired up with children who will resent him for being too young and still smarter than them? No, Merope… I’d like at least _one_ of our children to have a normal life. To go to school everyday instead of receiving endless private tutors, and to have a normal life like all children do. What good have we done Tom by advancing his skills? He can barely relate to other people. I won’t have that happen to Harry too.”  
  
Tom stepped away quietly when he heard his mother’s muffled sigh. He walked back out into the garden where Harry was still playing.  
  
So his parents thought Harry was just as good as him? And they still wanted Harry to be normal? Tom clenched his fists, unsure of why this made him so angry. It had sounded as though his father wasn’t proud of Tom… Tom was the _strongest_ wizard his age and he was still only eleven. How dare he not be proud of Tom?  
  
They wanted _normal?_ Then… Tom would make Harry normal for them. He would be so far above Harry’s level, the kid would always by only above ordinary, and nothing more.  
  
Tom strode out, leaving Harry playing alone.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Of course, Harry then decided that he wanted to go out and train with Tom. Tom didn’t quite know what to make of Harry’s hero-worship, but he accepted it as – from his perspective- a well placed admiration. His father would often frown when Tom took Harry out with him and that, somehow, made Tom want to be with Harry _more_.  
  
“Brother, can you train me?”  
  
Thomas stood in the hallway, out of Harry’s line of sight. Tom’s gaze locked with his father’s, a silent disagreement.  
  
“Not today, Harry, I have something important to do.”  
  
His father’s shoulders loosened slightly.  
  
“Tomorrow?” Green eyes shone only for him, and Tom frowned as something inside of him seemed to _hurt_. His father was trying to catch his eyes again, but Tom turned his face away.  
  
“Yes, tomorrow.”  
  
Damn his father. Harry was _his_ too.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
“Can I go with you today?” Tom stopped lacing up his boots to look at Harry over his shoulder.  
  
“Shouldn’t you study for your tests?”  
  
“I already studied, and I have straight hundreds from last round of examinations. Please? Let me go with you? _Pleeeeease?_ ” Harry’s hopeful gaze worked its way under Tom’s skin, curling up inside his ribcage. It was a distressing sensation.  
  
“Very well, you may come.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
They trudged through the tall grass together, Tom in front and Harry trailing behind with lighter footsteps. Tom watched Harry curiously, noting how – at six – he could already see the beginnings of muscle and sinew through the baby-fat. Harry would grow to be interestingly strong, Tom judged.  
  
His body would be lithe and skilled, he was intelligent and fast on his feet, his magical power was impeccable and he was constant. Harry would be a challenging rival someday, and Tom felt a wash of hot curiosity over that fight, when it came. For now, Harry was but a boy. A boy who could have been as strong at his age as Tom had been, if not for their father and his judgemental views.  
  
One thing was for certain, Tom had _excelled_ at making Harry seem normal in comparison. It did not make Thomas like his eldest son any better, but it made Harry strive even harder to become _stronger_. The more Tom grew in strength, the more Harry felt the chasm and sought to diminish it.  
  
Regardless of their parents’ hopes for Harry, it was Tom who set the model and Tom who inspired him. No matter how normal his upbringing was, Harry would always move out of the norm because he sought to be like _Tom_.  
  
Harry was his to shape and unshape, a life that depended wholly on him and Tom sometimes spent entire nights awake, wondering what to do with it. He liked the idea of a partner in his exploits, someone as strong and determined as him. No one can come _close_ to the potential Tom saw in Harry. Besides, Lucius had a girlfriend now, and they seemed to be drifting even further apart. Tom didn’t like thinking about how that made him feel.  
  
He much preferred thinking about what he could do for Harry.  
  
If only their parents would stop insisting on making him normal and _happy_...  
  
“Brother? Oh, brother look!” Harry grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged. “Look, a tomato patch.”  
  
Tom turned his head and followed the line of Harry’s outstretched finger. “Wild tomatoes,” he surmised. They could only be wild, this far out into the countryside.  
  
“Can we pick them?” Harry wondered, and Tom saw him lick his lips thoughtfully. “They look ripe.” His smile, when he looked up, was as blinding as always. “Brother?”  
  
Tom felt winded, both by the smile and the gleam of wetness on Harry’s lips. “You wait here. I’ll get them,” he supplied, unsure as to why he wanted to indulge Harry.  
  
The tomatoes were plump and red, just like how Harry liked them. When Tom placed the ripe fruit in Harry’s little hands his smile did odd things to Tom’s insides.. again. But what truly kicked the breath from his body was the way Harry _bit_ into the tomato. Juice glistened on his lips and dribbled down his chin. Harry tipped his head and licked his lips, then wiped some droplets off with his shirt.  
  
Tom stared, transfixed. When Harry bit into the tomato again a few seeds dribbled over his chin and stained his shirt. Harry made a face and lifted a hand to wipe the liquid off his face again. Tom didn’t know _why_ he moved, but he found himself clutching Harry’s hand to keep him from cleaning his chin.  
  
“Brother?”  
  
Tom’s hands shook. Harry’s eyes were full of _trust_. No one looked at him that way now. “Harry---” Tom leaned down, unsure of what he was doing, but certain that he wanted to do it. When his lips found Harry’s he could taste the sweet acidity of the tomato. Harry’s startled breath fanned over Tom’s lips, ghostlike and soft. Tom licked the juice off Harry’s chin and then kissed his lips again.  
  
“Tom…?” Harry’s voice wavered on an edge of uncertainty. “What are you…?”  
  
“Shhh. It’s okay SHarry. Open your mouth.”  
  
“B-but…”  
  
“Don’t you trust me?”  
  
Harry’s small chest heaved. Green eyes slid shut and Tom felt his pulse quicken when Harry’s mouth fell open under his. One of Harry’s little hands gripped the front of Tom’s shirt, the other still held onto the bitten fruit. He shivered when one of Tom’s hands stroked the back of his neck.  
  
Tom pulled back and took the tomato out of Harry’s grasp. He bit into it, savoring the moisture on his tongue before swallowing. Harry took a huge gulp of air, and whined deep in his throat when Tom kissed him again. There was something infinitely alluring in Harry’s soft trembling, in the way his breaths became faster and he seemed to squirm in Tom's arms.  
  
Tom picked the boy up and sat him across his lap. When Harry moved, his legs brushed against Tom’s groin in the most fascinating way. Harry shivered and fisted both hands in Tom’s shirt, staining it with tomato. Tom could smell the sun and the grass around them, and the heat on Harry’s skin.  
  
There was something both sweet and acid in Harry’s weakness, at that moment. It made the whole situation dearer to Tom, it made him feel strong and full of _something_ ; it was suddenly lovely that Harry should be so young and small and weak. The way in which he clung to Tom made him want to touch Harry all over.  
  
“Why are we doing this?” Harry whispered against his lips, confused.  
  
Tom sought his mind for a good explanation, but nothing surfaced. “I don’t know. Don’t you like it?”  
  
“I don’t know---” Harry’s tones were hushed, but he seemed to be on the verge of tears.  
  
“Am I hurting you?” Tom asked, vaguely alarmed.  
  
“Not, but this is _strange_. Brother, I’m not sure I like this…”  
  
Tom kissed his neck, biting ever so softly over his pulse. Harry’s heart fluttered like a bird’s under his lips. “This is what people do when they love each other.”  
  
Harry whined again and Tom jerked him closer to his body. “Move your legs like that again.”  
  
“W-what?” Harry struggled weakly, not quite wanting to break free, Tom noted.  
  
“Your legs. Move them--- yes, like that.” Tom closed his eyes and for a very long while he held onto Harry as his little brother wiggled all over his lap. Tom could feel his own breaths become shorter as heat curled in his pelvis.  
  
But Harry was growing afraid, and that made him distinctly angry. He wasn’t hurting Harry. He _loved_ Harry, and he was possibly the only person who could boast to hold such a place in Tom’s life. Harry was the only truly interesting thing he had to look forward to.  
  
“Tom, this is strange. Let’s stop. You’re breathing funny.”  
  
Tom pulled back and gave Harry a long look. “Don’t you trust me, Harry?”  
  
“You’re scaring me,” Harry whispered, and his eyes were terrible to behold. Tom looked away and cursed, uncertain of what to do.  
  
“I’m sorry, Harry. I just wanted…” What _did_ he want? “… I wanted to do something special with you. Something that shows how much we love each other.”  
  
Harry’s eyes were wide and dark. “But I love you so much, brother---- even though it makes dad angry.”  
  
Tom’s head snapped around to stare down at Harry. “What?”  
  
Harry paled visibly. “Dad he… he says he doesn’t want me to follow you around, or to train with you. He says you…” Harry trailed off, watching Tom’s face intently. “But I don’t listen to him!” Harry cried, suddenly. “I _don’t_. I want to be like you when I grow up!”  
  
“Father doesn’t know what he is doing,” Tom growled, clutching Harry to his chest.  
  
Harry made a strange little sound, with his face pressed against Tom’s chest. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, don’t be, it’s not your fault.”  
  
“I love you, Tom.” Tom’s heart hammered in his chest and between his legs. “You’re the best brother in the world.” Harry leaned up to kiss him nervously. “And I _do_ trust you, it’s just that… this feels funny.”  
  
Tom watched Harry and sighed. “Alright Harry, I can fix that. Turn around.” Tom helped Harry turn on his lap, until that small back was leaning against his. Tom’s hands moved forwards, stroking down Harry’s chest. “This might still be a bit funny at first, but you’ll like it, I promise.”  
  
Harry nodded, still unsure of what was going on. “I believe you.”  
  
“Good,” Tom whispered. He let his hands roam lower, over Harry’s legs and then up and in between them. Harry tensed and let out a small squeak.  
  
“ _Brother_!”  
  
“Trust me, Harry,” Tom coaxed, lifting the elastic band of Harry’s trousers to slip his other hand inside. Harry arched against him and let out a small groan. “Yes, like that,” Tom insisted, when Harry’s hips rubbed against his own hardness. Tom reached down, keeping Harry’s hips where he wanted them and helping the boy rock against him.  
  
Harry was gasping, wordless cries of startled sensation as Tom’s hand sped up. Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip, whimpering softly. Tom tightened his grip on Harry and moved his hips a bit faster, until Harry’s breaths had all but faded from his mind and everything splintered. Tom gasped and clenched his teeth while reality became no more than the blinding white of pure sensation.  
  
Harry was trembling against him.  
  
Tom groaned, surprised by the sudden feeling of satiated bliss. He took his hand out of Harry’s trousers. Harry arched and shivered. Tom rubbed his palm over the front of Harry’s trousers until Harry jerked in his arms, gasping hoarsely. Tom smiled when Harry whimpered in childish delight, hiding his face in Tom’s damp shirt.  
  
Harry _had_ liked it, that much he had seen. But when it was all over, Tom could still smell the tomatoes he had plucked, and Harry had gone dangerously quiet beside him.  
  
“Harry?” Tom questioned. He winced at the moisture he felt in his pants.  
  
Harry’s shoulders shook and he pressed himself harder against Tom. “Brother, what did you _do_?” He seemed torn between fear and awe.  
  
“Didn’t you like it?”  
  
When Harry looked up, Tom saw unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. They shone just as brightly as the saliva on his lips. “I don’t think dad will be okay with this.”  
  
Tom’s face hardened. “Father can never know.”  
  
Harry shivered and nodded. “I thought so. This was a bad thing to do.”  
  
Tom’s fingers clenched into fists. “It’s not a bad thing,” Tom growled angrily. “I love you, I wanted this and you liked it. Isn’t that enough?”  
  
Harry’s lower lip trembled as he nodded. Tom hugged him, but Harry didn’t hug back and Tom was suddenly left with the feeling that there were things that Harry understood _differently_. There were edges to Harry’s mind that Tom couldn’t quite grasp and it was making them drift apart.  
  
Tom knew whose fault _that_ was.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Tom…” his mother’s voice was soft and worried. “Did something happen to Harry recently?”  
  
Tom didn’t even look up as he answered. “I don’t know, mother. Why do you ask?”  
  
“He’s been acting so _strange_ since last month…” Tom looked up and saw that Merope’s eyes were set on him, pleading for an answer. Tom watched her in silence. He could see an accusation in his mother’s gaze and he felt it was uncalled for. _They_ were at fault. If his parents had not tried to bend Harry to their will, Harry would not have been so troubled with Tom’s love for him. Thankfully, Harry was gradually becoming used to it. Last night had been--- interesting.  
  
Tom held his mother’s gaze as coldly as he could. “He hasn’t told me anything.” Tom lied easily, watching her face crumple.  
  
“Your father is really worried that maybe…”  
  
“Father thinks I did something to him?” Tom demanded in a chilling voice.  
  
Merope’s silence was answer enough.  
  
“I’ll kill him,” Tom hissed, anger boiling in his gut. “How dare he accuse me of anything?”  
  
If Harry was acting a bit strange, it was because of _them_.  
  
Merope let out a small sob, placing both of her hands on his shoulders. “Please, Tom. Did something happen? Are you sure you can’t remember anything? Harry has become so _different_ ,” Tom’s eyes narrowed at her choice of words. “And he won’t talk to us anymore.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Tom lied again. His mother’s eyes were frankly disbelieving and Tom realized he was fighting a losing battle. They were certain he had done something.  
  
When she tried to hug him, Tom pulled out of her embrace. “Tom…”  
  
“I have to go.”  
  
Merope sighed brokenly. “Oh, my son, I didn’t want it to come to _this_ …”  
  
“What do you mean, mother?”  
  
“Your father and I think it might be best if you moved out.”  
  
Tom stopped in his tracks. So they were finally throwing him out, were they? Damn them. “Harry---“  
  
“I think you should take some time away from him, honey.”  
  
For the first time in his life, Tom felt cornered. He waited for his mother to say something more, but she was painfully quiet.  
  
They couldn’t take Harry away from him. No, they wouldn’t.  
  
Harry was _his_ to shape.

**Author's Note:**

> ...so how was it? Comments are ALWAYS welcome!
> 
> I'm wondering if I'll continue this au...do you want more? Just tell me in the comments!


End file.
